


Don't Speak

by zombiechick



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-09-27 09:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9996635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiechick/pseuds/zombiechick
Summary: I like my stories smutty and in canon, as much as possible.  So The Doctor and Clara stop by a planet they've not visited before in order for Clara to see a species never before seen by humans.  There is really no plot whatsoever here just smut.  Enjoy! Comments make me write the next chapter.  Any comma mistakes are mine, my regular beta doesn't frequent the Archive.





	1. Chapter 1

"Clara, I need you to hold perfectly still," The Doctor whispered in her ear.

"What do...," she began but stopped suddenly at a low hiss from The Doctor.

He stepped close to Clara, pressed himself against her back as his hands encircled her upper arms, "You mustn’t speak," he warned.

Clara gave him a reproachful glare over her shoulder.

Taking her meaning, The Doctor explained, "The low timber of my," he paused and smiled smugly, "soothing brogue won't interfere with the harmonics. Your higher register," he continued, "almost a squeak at times," Clara rolled her eyes, "could be quite detrimental."

Clara rolled her eyes and then arched her eyebrows, obviously asking for an explanation.

"Look in front of you," The Doctor continued to speak directly into Clara's ear. "Do you see the lights dancing there?"

Turning her head to look, Clara shivered at The Doctor's soft breath on her neck. A golden object, looking a bit like a snowflake the size of a dinner plate hung in the air less than ten feet from her nose. As Clara watched, another object joined the first; indistinguishable in size or color.

"Those lights are why I brought you here," The Doctor continued, his hands beginning to stroke her upper arms. "What you are witnessing, what no other human being has ever witnessed, is the beginnings of the Ollatsyrc mating ritual."

Clara pressed back against The Doctor's lanky frame, subtly requesting that his hands continue moving on her body. She'd hugged The Doctor before, they'd even gone so far as to snuggle a bit on the couch in the library, but she couldn't recall ever having such a heated reaction to his physical presence.

"They're a race of purely crystalline entities. Their interactions have to be so delicate," his hands slid down her wrists, his fingers stroking the inside of her palms, "that they rarely attempt mating; one false move in their dance could destroy the harmony of their very structure, killing them both."

Clara gasped quietly as The Doctor's hands moved down to alight on her upper thighs. She swore that she could feel small jolts of electricity pass through the wool of her skirt as his fingers made small patterns there.

"Can you feel that?" he whispered to her, The Doctor's lips brushing against her neck; placing a gentle kiss on her earlobe.

Clara panted quietly and nodded though she had to bite her lower lip to keep from moaning.

"When they move around each other like that," The Doctor explained as he nuzzled the back of Clara's ear with his nose while his fingers continued to lightly stroke her skirt clad thighs, "they're creating a sort of low frequency type of music that humanoids register as a sexual stimulant."

Clara's eyes widened as she realized why she'd become turned on so quickly. She turned and placed a soft kiss on The Doctor's lips before crinkling her eyes in a knowing smile.

"No, my Clara," The Doctor grinned, "I'm not attempting to use that as an excuse. The Ollatsyrc are amplifiers; their song merely intensifies feelings, it doesn't create them."

Clara nodded; happy that he wasn't trying to logic his way out of this. Placing one hand on The Doctor's, she dragged it down, and under, her skirt so that his fingers were directly resting on her stockings. She could feel The Doctor's answering grin against her neck.

He gave a sort of purr of approval when his fingers found the top of her stocking and then wandered to Clara's bare thigh. "We must stay very still, Clara," he warned as his hand moved to touch her lightly through her knickers. "If I had to guess, I'd say you're normally a bit of a screamer."

Clara blushed as she turned slowly to place a soft bite on The Doctor's jaw.

The Doctor groaned as his fingers found the waist of Clara's knickers. He slid his hand under the material and his eyes fluttered close at the impossible heat that emanated from Clara's sex. "Do you think, just this once," he began as his fingers stroked lightly through the thatch of hair he found, "you can give up control?" His fingers moved lower to find the lips of Clara's sex wonderfully slick with her arousal. "If I promise that next time," one fingertip moved lower to slowly penetrate Clara, "you can tie me up," he panted, "boss me around," his finger was joined by a second, "and be as loud as you like?"

Clara's head fell back, her teeth actually drawing blood, and nodded with as little movement as possible and oh so quietly.


	2. Be Very Very Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short. Sorry. Clara gets a show and then drags The Doctor back to the TARDIS.

"Good girl," The Doctor groaned as he felt Clara's sex coating his fingers, "knew you could do it."

Clara moved her feet further apart and leaned back fully against The Doctor to give him more room to move. Her eyes only half-way open, she watched the Ollatsyrc dance before her; an intricate pattern that Clara would freely admit, despite not completely understanding what they were doing, was extremely erotic. 

When The Doctor added a thumb circling Clara's clit, she groaned and began to shudder slightly. "Listen, Clara. Can you feel that change in pitch?"

Clara nodded carefully against The Doctor's neck; her mouth closed and pressed tightly against the pulse at his throat.

"The Ollatsyrc are nearly as close as you are. Can you remain very, very quiet, my Clara?" He lowered his mouth to the base of her throat, nosing aside the collar of her shirt.

Clara gasped as she felt a familiar sensation beginning in her toes. She held on tightly to The Doctor's arm that gripped her around the waist; fearing she'd collapse when she came. He was placing open mouthed kisses against her throat; leaving small marks on her skin. Clara whimpered quietly.

They both winced at the sudden change in the air around the Ollatsyrc; the flashes of golden light became brighter and strobed with a pulsing beat. 

The Doctor raised his mouth from Clara's neck and nestled his lips next to her ear, "Come for me, my Clara," he murmured.

Her fingernails bit into the arm of his jacket; luckily he was heavily layered that day. Clara's teeth worried at her lips as she held The Doctor as closely to her as she could. Finally, the wave broke and Clara groaned quietly. She could feel her sex pulsing around The Doctor's fingers.

The Doctor moved against Clara's backside; his hardness brushing the swell of her ass softly. She could feel his triumphant grin against her neck as they watched the Ollatsyrc disengage and float away from each other.

"And that's that," he breathed, stepping back slightly. "Just one shot and they're done."

Clara turned a quick about face. Her face was flushed and her chest heaved with the afterglow of her orgasm. Her hand shot out quickly and, grabbing a fistful of hoody, jumper, and who knew how many layers of t-shirts, grinned lasciviously, "But, we're far from done, Clever Boy." 

Clara victoriously hustled a slightly nervous, but completely uncomplaining, Doctor back to the TARDIS.


	3. Back to the TARDIS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small segue here where Clara gets The Doctor back to the TARDIS.

The TARDIS' door opened for Clara so that she could continue to drag her captive inside.

Turning around, both of Clara's hands landed on The Doctor's chest to push him back against the railing. Clara licked her lips and leaned in, pulling The Doctor toward her for a hard kiss. Her hands snaked up and around his neck so that her fingers could thread through his silver curls. 

The Doctor's arms circled around her to take Clara in a warm hug. He stood to full height, breaking the kiss, "I'm afraid there's no hanky-panky allowed on the TARDIS; it's a hard and fast rule."

Clara shook her head, "We have a verbal contract. You told me that I could tie you up, boss you around, and be as loud as I liked."

"I'm not following your logic," The Doctor pretended confusion.

"Oi," she threatened, grabbing up his layers in a fist and pulling him down to her, "if I'm the boss, then I get to say when and where. I say, 'right here and right now."

"I do have a bedroom, you know," The Doctor purred at her as he smiled softly, not so secretly enjoying being told what to do.

Clara licked her lips and her hungry gaze glanced around the TARDIS, "Later; first round happens right here."

The Doctor rolled his eyes, the sarcasm practically dripping from his lips, "What a surprise; Clara Oswald is turned on by the control room."

Clara thrust her hands under The Doctor's jacket and pushed it off his shoulders and down his arms. "You're just impressed with all your levers," she paused to remove the hoody beneath The Doctor's jacket, "and knobs as I am."

The Doctor smiled at her wolfishly as Clara yanked his holey jumper up his narrow frame and over his head. He emerged with his hair even wilder than normal. "It's all metaphor with you literature teachers," he mocked.

"Are you requesting a more literal approach, Doctor?" the sound of The Doctor's fly being unzipped punctuated her question.

"I...," his jaw dropped open as Clara quickly dropped to her knees in front of him, freeing his cock from his trousers.

The Doctor's sexual past was a bit spotty, even he didn't quite remember the particulars of that part of his timeline, but one thing he did know was that this present incarnation hadn't had anything in the way of sexual experience. Clara's warm tongue snaking out to lick the tip of his cock, her soft lips encircling his shaft, made The Doctor cry out in surprise over his sensitivity.

He groaned and his hands immediately went to tangle in Clara's hair as he fell back against the railing. He swore that he heard the TARDIS engines give a sound that resembled a chuckle as it's lights dimmed to create a more intimate atmosphere for them.

"Hands on the rail," Clara scolded him as she allowed his cock to slide from her mouth.

"But...," The Doctor complained as he stroked Clara's hair.

"The correct answer is, 'Yes, Boss," she corrected him.

They both turned toward the aforementioned rail as they heard a metallic tinkling sound.

"She seems to agree with you," The Doctor bemoaned as they looked upon the manacles, on rather short chains, that had appeared suddenly, connected to the TARDIS' railing.

"She is a helpful beast," Clara exclaimed as she quickly stood to push The Doctor back against the railing.

Realizing that he was outmatched, The Doctor willing placed his hands near the manacles.

Clara chuckled to herself, all too gleeful, as she wrapped the thick leather around each strong wrist, tightening the thick buckle, "They are lined with fur," Clara consoled him, "she obviously loves you."

He would not admit aloud how much he had enjoyed Clara securing him in leather cuffs, "Or something," he suggested.


	4. A New Look for The Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara gets back to the business of thoroughly debauching The Doctor.

When Clara knelt back down in front of The Doctor, she was effectively out of his reach. He pulled theatrically on the chains. Clara smiled smugly as she took his cock in her hands. Kissing the tip, her eyes still trained on the wide eyes of The Doctor, she licked around the head. The Doctor hissed with reaction and then moaned loudly as Clara slid his member into her hot mouth.

Clara could only assume that the murmured, ‘Encouragement? Confessions? Pledge of undying love?’ was spoken in The Doctor’s native tongue. The Gallifreyan language was quite musical and the ragged voice with which The Doctor delivered the sentiments had her extremely wet. Her skin buzzed with sensation not unlike the vibrations from the Ollatsyrc. She wrapped one hand around the base of The Doctor’s cock, her thumb stroking upward to meet the downward movement of her lips. 

His eyes had slammed shut, lids squeezed tight, as his hands reached behind him to grasp onto the railing of the TARDIS. The Doctor held on, wanting desperately to thrust hard between Clara’s lips. But he’d promised that she could be the boss so he held still as the smallest human he’d ever traveled with managed to effectively subdue him, a powerful Timelord, with only her tongue, lips, and fingers. Groaning loudly at some new movement of Clara’s mouth, The Doctor looked down to find such a wanton look of desire in her eyes that he was immediately pushed over the edge. “Clara!” he bellowed, his shout echoing off the walls of the TARDIS.

After a quick succession of involuntary thrusts into Clara’s mouth, The Doctor slumped back, hanging from his short chains and breathing heavily. He watched, from beneath hooded eyes, as Clara sat back and wiped one finger across her lower lip. She looked terribly smug and self-satisfied; he couldn’t help but smile at her. 

Clara turned to find a glass of water sitting on the TARDIS console. She smiled and called out a cheery, “Thanks,” to the TARDIS. The lights dimmed briefly in answer. Turning around once again, Clara took in the disheveled look of The Doctor, “I think we’ve finally found your signature look.”

The Doctor grinned, looking down at himself, “What? Hair a sight, wrinkled t-shirt, tackle out?”

Clara licked her lips, “London Fashion Week will never know what hit ‘em,” she chuckled.

“Clara,” The Doctor whispered huskily and motioned to her with his chin, “Come here, please.”

Clara took one more drink of water before sitting it down on the console and sauntered over to him smiling cheekily, “What is it, old man?” She put her arms around The Doctor’s neck and kissed him softly.

“Can I show you my bedroom now?” he pleaded.

“So soon?” Clara teased and then gasped quietly when The Doctor moved his hips against hers and she could feel his renewing arousal.

“I’ve got amazing powers of recovery,” he confided in a heavy burr.

Clara kissed him softly, breaking the kiss when The Doctor attempted to deepen it. “Fine by me,” she smiled before unlocking the cuffs.  
The Doctor stretched out his arms, his back popping slightly, before tucking himself back into his trousers and grabbing Clara by the hand. “Last time I saw it, my bedroom was down this way,” he said while pulling Clara down a nearby hallway, “hopefully, as she seems to approve of our activities, the TARDIS won’t hide it from me this time.”

The TARDIS hummed cheerily and Clara laughed as she was pulled, running, from the control room by The Doctor.


	5. The Bedroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara finally gets to see The Doctor's bedroom.

Clara couldn't say that she'd spent a significant amount of time imagining The Doctor's bedroom; it had crossed her mind a time or two. He claimed to exist on short cat naps and she had no evidence to the contrary. So, when she walked through the door, that The Doctor held open, Clara's mouth dropped open in surprise. 

The room before her was opulent with wood inlaid walls, thick Persian carpets on hardwood floors, and landscape paintings in heavy golden frames. The small white marble fireplace in the corner crackled warmly. Two large wooden chairs, with dark green velvet lining their cushions, faced the fire. 

The four poster bed was draped with dark green velvet curtains that closely matched the chairs. There wasn't a surface that didn't have some sort of embellishment or decoration. "Why does this look familiar?" she asked The Doctor.

He chuckled, "It looks different practically every time I come in this room. I think the old girl basis her decor on my mental state. Although this looks like it was meant for you."

"It's Queen Victoria's bedchamber," Clara grinned, "or one of her bedchambers. I saw it on the Windsor Castle tour."

The Doctor grunted in response, never overly impressed by monarchy, and walked over to the bed. Sitting down on the end, he leaned back until he reclined on his elbows, spread his feet wide, boots clumping loudly on the floor, and gave Clara a rakish look, "Come here."

Clara moved her eyes up The Doctor's lanky frame. His t-shirt had pulled away from his waistband so that a bit of his stomach was visible; a thin line of dark gray hair bisected his abdomen and disappeared into his trousers. Despite the fact that she'd practically seen him naked at this point, this unexpected bit of intimately exposed skin made Clara blush. She felt an answering heat suffuse the rest of her body.

"So you're calling the shots now?" she smiled as she moved to stand between The Doctor's pointed knees.

"I am still Boss's most faithful servant," The Doctor replied huskily. He licked his lips, "Undress for me?" he asked ever so politely, his leering gaze betraying the tone.

Clara found that she was out of quips; her hands immediately complied. When a being who has lived a millenia, and seen countless wonders, looks at you as though you are a precious discovery, it tends to make even an Impossible Girl weak in the knees.

The Doctor tracked her every movement with his timeless eyes, doubtlessly recording these moments for lonely nights in later years, until Clara stood naked before him. He motioned with his hands, and chin, for Clara to join him on the bed. She straddled his hips and The Doctor's hands slid up the backs of her thighs. He gripped her hips and encouraged her to continue to move upward. Clara was momentarily confused until he, once again, licked at his lower lip.

Blushing slightly, Clara allowed The Doctor to direct her movements until she was sitting atop his chest, her knees on either side of his head. He held Clara's hands in his, giving her some leverage. "Back when we were watching the Ollatsyrc, I wanted to get on my knees in front of you, lift your skirt, and taste you," he told her.

Clara took a shaky breath at this and felt her knees tremble slightly.

"I was afraid the movement might injure the Ollatsyrc, so was forced to wait. You'd think I'd be better at waiting, considering my age," he waggled his eyebrows a bit comically.

Clara let out a small laugh which was quickly cut off by The Doctor tugging her hands, making her fall forward, so that his mouth covered her sex. "Doctor!" Clara cried out as his tongue quickly slid between the lips of her sex and plunged inside of her.

He had let go of Clara's hands so that he could grip her ass, pulling her sex hard against him. Despite the amazing feelings he was creating with his tongue, Clara briefly wished for something to hang on to. She felt a softness brush her shoulders and looked up to find two golden chords, with matching soft handholds hanging from the bed frame. "Can't imagine these are historically accurate," Clara panted.

The Doctor shot her annoyed glare; his eyebrows doing the talking for him. Clara smiled an apology and took hold of the ropes to steady herself. She found that with the increased leverage, she was able to move in small undulations against The Doctor's lips and tongue.

His eyes slid half-closed, hooded with desire, as he watched his Clara. Her mouth hung open, her eyes fluttered close and would, occasionally, alight on his fiery gaze. The Doctor's chest swelled with pride that he was giving such pleasure to his Impossible Girl. He gripped her hips tightly, opened his lips, and sucked her stiff clitoris against his tongue. 

Clara threw back her head and practically howled; her sounds of ecstasy echoing off the walls around them. With the ability to do countless computations in his head, The Doctor was capable of fully enjoying the scene before him; watching Clara reach her peak, and, at the same time, count how many strokes of his tongue it took to push her over the edge. He didn't need to know how many strokes it took, he was merely a curious man. 'Six, seven, eight,' he counted to himself as he slid his fingers underneath Clara's bucking frame to slowly penetrate her sex, 'nine, ten, eleven,' he slid another finger inside of her and thrust a shallow rhythm, 'twelve.' 

Clara's hands went white as she gripped the ropes even tighter, her throat straining against the cry that issued loudly from her lips, "Doctor!"

He allowed her to fall back against him, and then roll onto the bed. Smiling smugly, The Doctor helped Clara to arrange herself more comfortably. He stroked her back as he, surreptitiously, wiped his mouth on the bottom of his t-shirt. "Time for a catnap?" The Doctor asked, nuzzling Clara's neck.

He gasped with surprise as Clara quickly turned over, locking gazes with him; an almost feral grin suffusing her face, her own eyebrows conveying intensely heated emotions. Her eyes made The Doctor scuttle, crab-like, up the bed until his back was against the overly large pillows. He thought of himself as a relatively brave man but, the look that Clara was giving him, shot a small bolt of fear through his hearts, and he'd gone up against the Daleks.

Her hands slid up The Doctor's trouser-clad legs and gripped the bottom of his t-shirt, quickly pulling it over his head, "One more box to tick," she smiled, laying a kiss on his bare chest as her hands unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers. 

The Doctor swallowed audibly, "Yes, Boss," he moaned.


	6. Lucky for Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continued hanky panky in the TARDIS.

'There is nothing sexy about trying to remove someone else's boots,' Clara thought to herself, after finally giving up, sitting back on her heels to allow The Doctor to take over.

Moments later, two boots thumped noisily to the floor, "I threw the socks in as a bonus," he smiled before lying back, his hands tucked behind his head.

Clara looked The Doctor over; him, naked save for his trousers, which were unzipped and pulled just slightly down his hips. The, rather pale, Timelord's skin contrasting with the dark blue material was captivating.

The Doctor smiled smugly, obviously enjoying the attention. "I've got a nude that Queen Bess painted of me," he confided. He looked toward the door, "I think it's stashed in the library closet. When she was painting it, she made me..."

Clara sprang forward and placed her finger against The Doctor's mouth, "Past girlfriends are not acceptable pillow talk," she warned.

"You never made me a set of cards for that," The Doctor explained, his lips moving against Clara's finger.

"We'll put it on the list," Clara promised as her other hand reached down to slide her fingers under the waistband of his boxer shorts. "Question marks," she observed.

The Doctor smiled and then nipped at Clara's finger; his teeth, and tongue, following down her digit until he could place a kiss on her palm.

Moving his trousers slightly lower on his hips, Clara stretched out to slide her breasts against The Doctor's bare chest. Both of them moaned softly at the feel of skin on skin. Clara's lips traveled up his throat, placing her own small bite on his jaw, before kissing The Doctor softly. She threw one leg over his hips, settling herself; straddling his lithe frame. 

The Doctor's hands came out from behind his head and alighted on Clara's bare thighs. Spreading his fingers wide, he slid them up to her hips, finally settling on her waist; his thumbs made sweeping patterns on her lower stomach. "A beautiful view," he murmured, looking deep into Clara's eyes.

She couldn't help but blush, being under the tender scrutiny of The Doctor. Lifting herself on her knees slightly, Clara reached back and took The Doctor's hard shaft in hand. 

The Doctor groaned and thrust his hips up to slide himself more securely into Clara's palm. His hands moved up her torso, cupping a breast in each palm; thumbs circling her stiff nipples. 

Clara grinned mischievously as she teased him; sliding the tip of his cock back and forth through her slick warmth. She watched him writhe beneath her, his hands kneading her breasts, calloused fingers rolling her nipples. 

"Clara," he groaned. Whimpering quietly, The Doctor repeated her name and moved his hips imploringly.

Clara's thumb slid up the underside of the The Doctor's cock, putting light pressure on the tip, "Yes, Doctor? Did you need something?" Despite her attempt at control, Clara panted, "All you have to do is ask....or," she licked her lips, "beg."

The Doctor attempted a snarl, which was undermined by another throaty groan, "I don't beg."

Clara circled her hips against him, small movements that made The Doctor bite at his bottom lip, attempting some control, "I'd say," she panted, "you're halfway there already." Clara lifted herself higher, placing the tip of The Doctor's cock against her warm entrance, "Well?" she smiled and then licked at her bottom lip.

The Doctor cursed, in what Clara assumed was Gallifreyan, and then moaned, "Please, please, my Clara, please."

Clara sighed with relief and sank slowly down until The Doctor filled her completely. "Remember who's in charge here," Clara panted, smiling.

The Doctor allowed his head to fall back against the pillows, his eyes sliding closed with pleasure, a warm smile gracing his lips, "You are, Boss," he groaned.

Clara steadied herself, her hands splayed across The Doctor's chest, and picked up the pace; riding him mercilessly. "You feel amazing," she moaned.

The Doctor's eyes slid open halfway, his steely blue gaze taking in Clara's movements. She looked far too pleased with herself. 'My little control freak,' he thought affectionately. His hands sliding down and away from her breasts, The Doctor grasped Clara's hips and flipped them both over. He gave a victorious grin at the 'woop' of surprise that issued from Clara's lips.

A quick adjustment and he was nestled between Clara's thighs, her legs wrapped securely around his waist. "Can't have the Boss doing all the work," he said with a throaty burr.

Clara's only response was to arch her back as a loud cry of pleasure rang from her lips. Her hands flew to The Doctor's shoulders and gripped him tightly; short nails biting into his skin. She lifted her legs higher, locking her feet together behind his lower back allowing The Doctor to make deep thrusts into her wet heat.

The Doctor placed one hand on the bed beside Clara's head so that he could lean down, his rhythm mostly undisturbed, and whisper throaty words of passion directly into her ear. Clara's fingers dug deeper into his shoulders, and her muscles tightened around him. The Doctor knew that she was close to her release. "Once more Clara," he panted, placing a sloppy kiss at the edge of her mouth.

Clara surged back against him, deepening the kiss, and then breaking away suddenly as she came apart; her voice hoarse as she called out his name.

The Doctor wasn't far behind. His hips stilled as he allowed his forehead to fall forward. The Doctor groaned Clara's name into the skin of her shoulder. Careful not to fall on her, he rolled to the side; quickly gathering Clara up into his arms.

"So, what happened to 'no hanky panky' in the TARDIS?" Clara smiled at him.

The Doctor shrugged and kissed her forehead, "New management." 

"Lucky for us," Clara answered as she reached up and planted a kiss on his jaw.


End file.
